Thousands gathered at İstanbul’s Atatürk Cultural Centre (AKM) on Sunday to bid farewell to Sırrı Süreyya Önder, the veteran pro-Kurdish politician, writer and deputy speaker of the Turkish parliament. But it was his daughter Ceren Önder Kandemir’s voice that moved many to tears, as she read aloud a letter to her late father, evoking memories of laughter, poetry, political struggle and an irreplaceable bond.
Visibly emotional, Kandemir began by describing their unique connection:
“Whenever I wrote something, I’d call my father and read it aloud to him. It felt like reading to myself. I’d hear my mistakes in his silence.”
She then read the letter she had penned following his death in hospital the day before. Her words painted a portrait of a man whose life was filled with affection, resistance, humour and sacrifice:
“Dad, all the colour left life. The life I knew is over. A new one begins now—frightening and full of unknowns. I always feared losing you. It was my only nightmare, my weakness, the ache in my nose, the lump in my throat. You were so good, so unique, that I’d think: this man can only hurt me by dying.”
Her tribute was filled with intimate recollections and political resonance. From the nights he played instruments at home to the coffee meetings that felt like first dates, Kandemir offered a deeply personal window into the life of a man celebrated as both a cultural figure and peace advocate.
“You’d call five times a day with the excitement of someone newly in love. You never said no to kindness, you feared hurting others more than anything.”
She recalled calling him for every small crisis—illness, heartbreak or even the death of a pet—and said he always responded with warmth.
“I’ve had more than enough fatherhood from you. What you gave will be enough for me, my son, and even his child. But your friendship—I never had enough of that. Can one ever?”
Touching on his commitment to peace, Kandemir expressed frustration over the timing of his death, noting that he had recently told her: “Two more weeks and the peace protocol will be signed. Then I’ll have surgery, we’ll be fine.”
“I want to be angry with you for saying ‘what could happen in two weeks?’ I want to be angry about your silence over prison hunger strikes and torture. But I can’t. Because of the letter you once sent me from Kandıra Prison.”
Her letter ended on a note of love and hope.
“You didn’t leave owing anyone. No possessions, no debts. You lived feeding not your stomach, but your honour. You left taking all the colour with you. But I gave you all the love I had—kissed you, hugged you, told you I loved you every day. Now all my colours belong to you.”
“You said you wouldn’t die before Can’s wedding. And you kept every promise—until now. You wanted to see peace. I don’t know if what I saw in those hospital corridors—flagless, classless, sorrowful and hopeful—was peace. But it was something close.”
She closed by quoting a verse he had once recited to her:
“‘I know, rain doesn’t fall upwards again. The pain fades, the wound heals. But no wind can ever fill the empty space. The place of cranes flying together from one life to another.’
I’m proud of you.”
The AKM memorial included messages from figures such as DEM Party MP Pervin Buldan and director Berkun Oya, both of whom struggled to contain their tears. Kurdish mother and peace activist Revşen Kandemir also spoke in Kurdish.
Thousands later joined a mass march to Dolmabahçe, chanting slogans such as “Şehîd namirin” (“Martyrs do not die”) and “Our promise to Sırrı is peace”.
Sırrı Süreyya Önder, a key member of the İmralı delegation during peace talks with the Kurdistan Workers’ Party (PKK), passed away after weeks in intensive care. He is remembered as a passionate advocate for reconciliation between Turkey’s diverse communities and as a beloved friend, father and comrade.
